Liv is not a good patient. She squirms at the attention, hates needles, and keeps insisting that she's fine, she has work to do, she's missing classes … by now, the staff may be well sick of her. There's a small stash of books by her bedside table; the one in her lap is course-related. She's multiply bruised and sporting a few long bandages, but seems, if not in high spirits, then restless.

There is a thundering sound suddenly filling the Medical Center. Then there is the barking warning by one of the nurses and a sheepish yelp. None the less, a few moments later, more sedate, Sandra regally strides into the room, nevermind her throwing open the door a bit too strongly, causing her to wince ever so faintly.
Then that is put out of her mind and Sandra strides directly towards Liv's bedside, those blue eyes swirling with color and anxiety as she looks over the young woman with a deep frown. Finally she nods, and crosses her arms over her chest. "We must teach you how to -goose-," she intones as if saying something profound.

Liv's head comes up at the sound, expression startled. She instinctively tenses when she sees it's Sandra - not because she expects to be lectured, but because her last visitor gave her a decidedly jarring hug. Well … maybe a bit because she expects to be lectured. "Ah, hi, Sandra," she manages, affecting a casual tone. She considers a few responses, discards them. "I'm sorry … what?"

Sandra blinks at Liv, then nods again. "See! That is your problem, you do not know how to 'goose'," offers the Atlantean. "You know, … goose," she continues, ducking a bit, before peering back at Liv then shaking her head. "Well, you will learn, no doubt. When are the," and suddenly Sandra looks around, casting her gaze back and forth, before leaning in and whispering, "When are the Minders letting you go?"

Liv frowns at Sandra, quizzical, and then her expression clears. "Oh, you mean duck," she says. "No, I did duck … after the first shot got me in the back, that is." That gallows humor is a specialty of hers, though it's jazzed up with anger today. "Soon, I hope. I'm going a little out of my head being cooped up in here … worse than the scratches, really." A wry grin. "They're saying tomorrow morning, but I know better than to trust doctors."

Sandra blinks at Liv. "Is that not what I said?" she asks before shaking her head in dismissal. Then the young woman purses her lips, considering as she drums her fingers on the side of the bed. "Well … they would know where you went, that being your dorm room, but I think I could carry you safely and break down any doors in the way…" is offered.

"No, a goose is a whole different animal, and it doesn't have a double meaning," Liv says. "Well, actually, it does - it means to pinch someone's err, backside, which is actually what I thought you meant at first." She giggles at the description. "Thanks for the offer," she says, "but if they wanted me back, they'd just send someone to haul me, and it'd turn into a really ugly tug of war."

Sandra just stares at Liv for a long moment. "Why would you want to pinch someone in the posterior? And what does that have to do with a water fowl?" Alas, Sandra is getting more and more confused. "Wait, I thought Tug of War was a game…"

The giggles just get louder, until Liv coughs, flinches, and trails off. "Uh … to be honest, I don't know. It's supposed to be sexy or something. And there might be an etymological connection, somehow, but I don't think it has anything to do with either bird." She flashes a wry smile. "Dang, you make me think about language. And yeah, it is, that's why it would be an ugly one."

Looking around, Sandra finally grabs a chair and pulls it up to Liv's bedside so she can settle into it, a thoughtful expression on her face before she suddenly blinks and her cheeks go red. "Well, games that are ugly are hardly fun, I would suppose," she notes after a moment. "Very well then. Alas, I do not have the speed to paint your room to look like the quad … though, I wonder if I could move paint like I do water…"

Liv smirks at the redness in Sandra's cheeks. "It's also sort of rude," she cautions. "Yeah, I figure I have to stay put until they give me a clean bill of health, as much as I want to get out and get doing things." She rubs at the back of her neck. "Not sure what that would accomplish. *I'd* still be in it. Still, that's an interesting thought. Paint by powers? You'd need really fine control."

"Rude? Oh well, … yes," notes Sandra with another firm nod, before wrinkling her nose. "I do not have such control, alas, unless I concentrate greatly." Then the woman hmmms and leans forward, arms folding on the edge of the bed, chin resting on the back of her arms. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"Well, great art requires suffering," Liv quips. "Seriously, I think it would be interesting. Or you could try wall art outside the school." She huffs out a breath at the question, answering, "Yes." She lets it hang for a few seconds, then continues, "Was minding my own business. Got ambushed by two Shadows. I tried to hold my own, but …" Her fingers clench on the bedsheets. That look is as much self-recrimination as anything else. "So they took me down and said if I didn't swear to keep my mouth shut, they'd break me." She stares down at her hands. "I managed to get off one last shot and bolted. Didn't get far. I heard Muire talking about maybe it'd be simpler to kill me, and then … the next thing I really remember is flying and Steven and what the hell." Her eyes flit up, briefly startled. "I guess … that's it." She seems surprised it came out in that rush.

"Who is Muire?" asks Sandra curiously, unmoving in her spot as she looks wide-eyed up at Liv. "Do you know who the other shadow was, then, too?" is asked. "Well, at least Steven and everyone else were nearby. And now you know you truly have friends," states Sandra, desperately seeking the optimistic view.

"She's an older Shadow - in her second childhood, in fact. I don't know her that well." Liv shakes her head minutely. "He goes by Burke. They're not … I've met both of them before, but I never had much to do with them." She glances up at Sandra, a fragile smile offered. "Some things really don't have a positive side," she says with some irony, but then concedes, "Yeah, I was lucky he was nearby. But I already trusted you guys. I wouldn't doubt you." A snort, and she adds, "Oh, and if Reg decides to go off fully cocked and attempt to beat the shit out of my mother, will you *please* knock him out? I can't do it from a bed."

Sandra considers for a long moment, then nods. "I will do my best. He is /EVER/ so stubborn, however," she notes. Then Sandra sighs faintly, and lifts her head to gently reach for Liv's hand. "Good, I am glad that you do not doubt our friendship and love for you," she offers warmly. "Was this in retaliation to you not wanting to do as your mother wished?"

"He is," Liv says, grimacing. "I'm just worried that he's going to stir up some kind of shitstorm, because Shadows watch each other's backs and you can't pick a fight with just one." She flashes a wry smile. "You've been there for me. Some day, I'll have a chance to return the favor?" A faint flicker of a frown. "Burke and Muire were … pretty definite they didn't want me talking about my mother. To the authorities, I mean."

To this Sandra sighs. "It is a shame that Amber and Alia decided it was a good idea," groans the young woman. "We should have talked some sense into them, rather than … well, no matter, it is done," she says, squeezing Liv's hand again. "And yes, you will. I have no doubts about that at all, Liv."

Liv squeezes Sandra's hand in answer. She's getting less tetchy about physical contact - or maybe it's just that she's cooped up on bedrest. Take your pick. "Of course, I hope none of you need it in the same fashion," she amends, wry, then shakes her head. "Maybe that wasn't the right time, but the truth needs to come out. I am bursting at the seams with it … and if they thought this would cow me, they're wrong."

"Good," replies Sandra, watching Liv with a warm smile. "You are a strong young woman, remember that," she intones with a firm nod of her head. "So … what do you plan to do next?"

"I plan on getting out of the infirmary," Liv mock-grouses. One side of her lips quirks up. "I'm not. I'm just mad." She lets out a breath. "What I planned to do before. Tell the cops my side of the story. I've been … putting things together, making sure I don't sound crazy. I suspect they might call some of you guys back …"

"I will be there if requested," notes Sandra with a smile to Liv. "And if you want me to come with you as for structure?"

"As … oh." Liv blinks her understanding, and decides not to correct Sandra. "That might be nice, but I'm probably going to be there for a while. Wouldn't want to keep you idling."

"You know I would not mind, Liv," offers Sandra, before shrugging. "But in the end, it is your choice, what you would be most convertable with," she says before standing. Sandra looks at the clock and sighs. "I am afraid I have mathematics tutoring I must attend to. I do not understand your surface arithmatic," she offers with a shake of her head.

"I know, but it will be boring stuff, except for a couple camera-phone videos of Kerry," Liv quips, trying to make light of it. "Hey, if you need some guidance - or just someone to grouse at - with the math, I'm here, too. Have a good day, Sandra."